When told by my wife that our fifteen-year relationship was over, I found that everything in my life was upended. I took solace when friends and family pointed out I was no longer responsible for her personal happiness, just my own—and that of my four children.

I went into marriage as a bisexual kid, suspicious of monogamy. I was a good husband, and played by the rules. Now I'm single again, and wondering if I didn't have it right back then.

This blog picks up my new life in progress—the life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

HNT

For a few years now, he’s been one of my go-to boys for threesomes. We were comparing notes about unmet fantasies when he offered one of his own. He had once blindfolded his girlfriend and had a friend of his come over to fuck her. Afterward, the friend left; she never saw his face or knew his name. He wondered: what must it be like to be in her position?

I offered to help him find out. I have a girlfriend he had never met. I told him he would get no photos or descriptions of her in advance of the blindfold date.

For good measure, I also declined to give her photos or descriptions of him. In fact, I neglected to tell her would be expecting a guest.

When he rang, my girlfriend expressed surprise. “My, who could that be?” I wondered.

“Oh, we’re playing that game, huh?” She jumped from the bed. “I’ll be in the bathroom.”

He undressed on arrival, per usual. I blindfolded him. My girlfriend came into the room, already nude. For the next few hours, we three went at it.

Afterward, we lay in each other’s arms. He remained blindfolded, as he would until leaving; he never saw her or learned her name. We asked him how the experience felt.

“For one thing,” he said. “I couldn’t tell your hands apart.” He sat up, clumsily. “Here, both of you: take my fingers and put them in your palms. Your left palms.” We did as he asked. He moved his fingerpads in a slow circle. “See, I can’t tell you apart.” He moved his fingers to explore our hands. “Okay, so this is Jefferson, obviously,” he said, lifting my hand. “His are bigger.”

“But just as soft?” she asked.

“Well, that hand has an advantage,” I said. “I jerk off with my left hand, so it has enjoyed a lifetime of lotion.”